AN: There is no actual violence in the chapter, but there is description of violent acts that have already happened...
++++++++++++++++++
As the Monday that the lawsuit between Leona and those that wanted to be animal-people began, I hoped that things in Columbia Falls would remain quiet. With R.A.M. essentially gone and no major criminal activity going on, I was able to be the sort of small town police officer that I had set out to be when Molly and I moved from Peoria to Columbia Falls. The only thing that was different between what I had envisioned of myself as a small town officer and the reality of being a small town officer over the past few days was the fairly obvious anatomical differences that resulted from my transformation.
"Morning, George," Officer Jenkins commented as we arrived. She arrived by car, I arrived on foot.
"Morning," I replied in a fairly friendly voice as we made our way into the station.
We made our way in quietly and clocked in. As we did so, I noticed some small talk being made by Officer Barnes and Officer Jenkins. Hopefully that meant that the two of them were doing their best to get the ball rolling and the "sideshow" wouldn't be that big a deal for a while. As I finished clocking in for the morning patrol, Officer Barnes informed both of us that there were no special instructions and wished us luck.
"Wonder what he wished us luck for?" Officer Jenkins asked as we made our way out to the patrol car.
"Probably hopping that things remain quiet," I replied, "as things have been quiet for awhile now."
"Something might be bound to happen," Officer Jenkins nodded.
The tone of her voice was fairly fairly serious and almost grave, like she expected something to happen. I truly hopped that if anything happened, it would be nothing serious.
Our patrol started fairly quiet, but after going through a few fairly quiet blocks, the car's radio came to life.
"Dispatch to Officers Jenkins and Wayne, come in," came the contact call.
"Officer Jenkins, here," Officer Jenkins answered it, "Officer Wayne is with me, and ready. What is the situation."
"We actually have a violent crime for you," the dispatch officer answered and gave the address.
"What's happened?" Officer Jenkins then asked as she turned to head toward the address given.
"The victim is a middle aged male," the dispatch officer replied, "callers are teens... the victim's kids. They report getting up for breakfast and found him shot dead in the kitchen."
"Murder..." I said slowly in the backseat.
"Or suicide," Officer Jenkins nodded.
"They found him that way?" Officer Jenkins asked, "was there anyone else there the night before that they know of? Or was there a note with the body or left somewhere else?"
"The teens seemed fairly uncooperative with me on that part," the dispatch officer answered, "the one I was talking to said he preferred to talk with an actual officer in person, and his brother in the background seemed to be muttering "oh my God" over and over in the background... like this was a big shock to them."
"We're already on our way," Officer Jenkins spoke into the radio.
+++++++++++++++++
The home seemed to be a fairly modest and small home on the edge of the town's city limits, or just outside it. The yard looked fairly well kept, despite all the melt water going through much of the region. We appeared to be the first unit to arrive and Officer Jenkins and I were fairly careful in our approach to the building, fearing that the killer might still be in the area if it was a murder. The need for that approach soon ended when a teen male appeared at the front door. He appeared to be one of the two teens that had disrupted the auction of Beauregard's property and belongings that could be auctioned. And with that, I suddenly felt a lump form in my throat.
"They seem to send you to all the big problems," the teen commented to me as Officer Jenkins and I approached.
"We were the closest unit," I said carefully, "I'm sure there are others on the way."
"Fat load of good it'll do," the teen grumbled.
"Can you tell us what you know, sir?" Officer Jenkins cut in as he lead us in, doing nothing to stop us.
"What is there to really say?" the teen answered, "we got up for breakfast and to go into school... and our old man is dead in the kitchen..."
"Yes, we know that much," I spoke, "but do you and your brother know any details about what happened? Such as when he was shot? How was he shot? Was there anyone else here when he was shot? What were you doing when he was shot?"
"You think I or my brother shot our father!?!"
"No," I sighed, "I'm saying beyond the fact that your father is dead from a gunshot wound, there is nothing. If you don't help us out here, we may end up saying it was suicide and the whole thing ends there."
"My father may have been broken by things... the things that Beauregard did to him," the teen answered, "but he'd never shoot himself."
"And that is why we need your help," Officer Jenkins told him as we entered the kitchen of the home.
The other teen was seated in a chair with a distant look from the dinning room and into the kitchen next to it. We looked over to the kitchen to see a middle aged, slightly overweight man laying on the floor with an obvious gunshot wound to his chest and a pool of blood on the floor beneath and around him. One arm was under him, while the other was out to a side, reaching toward a refrigerator beside him. The scent of human blood filled my nostrils. It did not smell good to me.
"He's gone," the other teen said slowly. Officer Jenkins and I both looked nervously at this.
"What happened last night?" I asked the first teen, who seemed to be the stronger, emotionally, of the two, "what lead to your father being shot?"
"Last night?" the teen grumbled, "Kyle and I got back from a girl's house... you ain't gonna ask what we were doing there?"
"Was it relevant?"
"No," the teen answered.
"Then I'm not going to ask," I told him.
The teen then sighed, glanced to his brother, Kyle, and then looked back to Officer Jenkins and I.
"We got back from a girls house," he spoke again, "it was late and the old man was talking some guy. No idea who he was. Guy was upset at something."
"Do you know if he lives here?" Officer Jenkins asked.
"He probably did, but we don't know," the teen responded, "the guy was yelling up a whole storm about betrayal and all that stuff. We couldn't be bothered at the time and went to bed. This morning... BAM!"
"DAD!" Kyle jumped up for a moment, but then sat down.
"We find him shot dead," the teen finished.
I moved closer toward the body and saw no smearing of the blood under him and began to pick up the a mixed smell of blood and beer.
"You didn't hear the gunshot?" I questioned.
"We couldn't help but hear the yelling so we took something to help us sleep," the teen answered.
"Sleeping pills?"
"Budweiser," the teen answered, "Old man always let us."
Officer Jenkins barely responded. I gave a hard blink at the answer that a pair of underage teens drank themselves into a deep sleep to avoid having to hear another man yell and ultimately shoot another person. I was about to approach the teen and confront him about the illegal consumption of alcohol when I caught a faint scent that didn't smell like either teen, Officer Jenkins, myself, or the body of he deed body. It seemed to confirm the story about there being an argument triggering the murder.
"See something, George?" Officer Jenkins asked.
"Picking up a faint scent that stands out," I said slowly, "though it blends in with a lot of others..."
"You can't track it?" Officer Jenkins asked.
"Lady, he's a cat," the teen interjected.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
The rest of the investigation took the rest of the day for Officer Jenkins and I. Our best guess was that the argument was between the father, Josh Marksman and some R.A.M. member over Beauregard's betrayal. But there wasn't much more that could be done for the day. The two teens were old enough to stay on their own, but with their home being a crime scene, they ended up being escorted to a hotel and Officer Jenkins and I ended up waiting until the coroners could come and take the body.
Once all that could be done was done, I made my way home to find Molly watching television, and specifically the news.
"Anything on the lawsuit?" I asked, knowing the murder had probably cost me the chance to see anything.
"They've started," Molly shrugged, "the reporters said that Leona has made her statement that uncontrolled genetic manipulation represents a slippery slope... that unless it is banned, we could end up with private companies creating private supermen..."
"That can be negated by good regulatory laws," I commented as I shook my head, "it's the whole "Khan" scenario."
"Khan?" Molly wondered.
"Khan, the superman from Star Trek," I explained, "created by genetic engineering, he nearly conquers the world before being exiled into space before being found by the original Enterprise. His conquests persuade the earth's governments to outlaw genetic manipulation... and as I said, it'd be negated by safe regulatory laws."
"Ah..." Molly nodded, "they also said that Leona added that becoming an animal-person would add animal instincts that could lead to trouble if the people do not expect them and that there will be multiple difficulties resulting from the practical applications of each transformation, but that's about all. The next session will be in about a week."
"Ah ha," I nodded slowly.
"What held you up?" Molly wondered after a few moments.
"A small time rancher was murdered," I said slowly, "we believe a former R.A.M. member was responsible."
"Against someone who supported us?" Molly wondered nervously.
"Against someone who was friends with Beauregard," I answered.
"Oh," Molly remarked, "and so the hand that held the dagger has struck it, into the back, of his neighbor."
I nodded.